Finngarick (Order of the Black Swan, D.I.T. Book 2)

by Victoria Danann

  “Well, how do you…? Never mind. That’s a discussion for another time.”

  “Aye, madam. If you have your list ready for me, I’ll begin scheduling meetings with candidates.”

  Rosie’s eyes returned to the door behind Grieve. “You’re sure he can be trusted?”

  “Would you like me to arrange a screenin’ by the Psychic Department?”

  Rosie cocked her head. “They’ve already done that. Or he wouldn’t be here. Right?”

  “Precisely.”

  “Okay. I get it. I’m being bigoted and silly.”

  “We’re all a product of our experience.”

  “Grieve. You don’t always have to try to make me feel better about my flaws.”

  “Good to know, madam.”

  “Here’s my list.” She pulled the list out of her bag. “Oh, and I’ve added a name that wasn’t in the files.”

  Grieve’s brow bunched up. “Oh?”

  “Yeah. Somebody my husband knows.”

  “Oh, well, the value of references can no’ be overstressed.”

  “Yep.”

  CHAPTER Eight THE GATHERING

  From the Memoir of Glendennon Catch

  Sovereign Jefferson Unit, Order of the Black Swan

  When it came to my attention that D.I.T.’s first priority would be Dublin, I thought of Torn Finngarick. After all he knew the culture and could, perhaps, be useful. I confess to the ulterior motive of also wanting to see all the floaters brought in from the cold once and for all. He was one of the remaining few. And everybody deserves another chance. Right?

  So I suggested that Rosie take a long look at him. Because Finngarick’s default is rebellion against all authority, there could be potential management issues, but I believe his value might outweigh the trouble he’s likely to cause and I believe my wife is up to the challenge.

  If you’re reading this, I know you’re thinking that I’m deliberately throwing a stumbling block into the mix so that Rosie will finally appreciate how hard it is to manage hunters. I can see why you’d come to that conclusion, but I swear in the name of all husbands paired with powerful mates, that’s not my goal. In this case, I think I may be giving more weight to Finngarick’s needs than Rosie’s.

  Rosie has the benefit of a devoted and unshakeable support system that includes not just me, but her parents, Deliverance, Ram, Elora, the monks at Cairdeas Deo, and all the people at Jefferson Unit who became her extended family as she was growing up. She’ll be fine no matter what.

  Torn, on the other hand, has no one but Rafael Nightsong and he is busy traveling the world as his wife’s bodyguard while she does investigative research for Black Swan. He will not be fine no matter what.

  So I pointed her in his direction and hope it works out for him.

  On another note, it’s exciting watching a whole new Black Swan venture take shape. This is only the second time in the long history of The Order that a hunting unit is being formed. The last time was centuries ago. The fact that my wife is in charge fills me with immeasurable pride. I will not tell her as much because her ego is already being fed by the title of “Commander”. ~~

  “What’s the plan?” Rosie asked Grieve after being introduced to the new staff. “Oh, by the way. I have asked Ram and Elora to be instructors at training camp. So, adding on to what I already said, we’re going to need accommodations for them, three kids, a nanny, and two wolf dogs.”

  Grieve practically gaped. “I must admit that sometimes I can no’ tell if you are, em, jokin’ or no’?”

  Rosie grinned at Grieve. “Really? You can’t? Do I need a flashcard to hold up or something like that?”

  “Makin’ my point. I can no’ tell if ‘twas a joke or no’.”

  Rosie laughed. “The thing about Ram and Elora was not a joke. The thing about flashcards was.” She sat down in the chair in front of Grieve’s desk to have her morning tea and scone. That scenario was displaying signs of becoming habitual. “Some of these big old remote places have, like a guest house or carriage house, or something like that. You’ll find the right place. I have confidence. But you need to do it fast because we’re burning daylight.”

  Grieve cleared his throat. “I’m no’ sayin’ you’re askin’ the impossible. At least no’ yet. But I will say that ‘big old remote places’ often do no’ come with central heat or modern kitchens. Many do no’ have electrical wirin’. At all. ‘Tis a big order on request is all I’m sayin’.”

  “Hmmm. We can do with wood burning fires if we have people to keep the wood stocked and the fires stoked. This time of year, we might not need heat at all provided that beds are made up warm. So far as the kitchen goes. In a pinch you can find somebody to retrofit for a state-of-the-art kitchen, provided there is electrical, of course. Wave a big payoff in front of a contractor’s face and see what happens, but be sure you build penalties for not finishing on time into the contract. Big ones.”

  “Very well, madam. No’ meanin’ to add to your present concerns, but many of the places that would be fittin’ your description are protected by the historical preservationists. They do no’ want the character of the old castles altered.”

  “Well, if it was easy, I wouldn’t need you, Grieve. I could do with a lesser man.”

  In spite of himself, Grieve gave a tiny smile of pleasure, indicating that he liked recognition as much as the next person.

  “I will do my best, madam.” Grieve turned toward his computer then paused. “Wolf dogs?”

  Rosie grinned. “They are so adorable. You’re going to love them!”

  Grieve raised an eyebrow. “I take that to mean that, at some point, I should expect to encounter creatures no’ meant to be domesticated.”

  “Exactly. Now, back to my original question. You’re very good at getting me off track, you know.” Grieve opened his mouth to protest, but Rosie went on. “What’s the plan?”

  “Regardin’ the hirin’ of hunters?”

  “The same.”

  “I suggest that, since time is a factor, we have the candidates come here to talk to you.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “How long would you like to allow a first interview?”

  Rosie looked at the ceiling. “Gosh. I don’t know. Is two hours reasonable?”

  “What’s the purpose of the interview?”

  “Wow, Grieve. You come up with the best questions.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Well…” As Rosie began she noticed Grieve prepare to take notes. “I want people who are qualified, but I also want them to be excited about the project. I mean, they don’t have to jump up and down and squeal.”

  “I would think no’.”

  “But I need to see a spark of interest. Something that tells me that they would care about outcomes beyond trading hours for pay.”

  “A good point at which to begin, madam.”

  “Thank you. I want people who are flexible, open to learning new methods. Of course, working well with others is a must.”

  “Also good points.”

  “Oh, and there’s the fact that most, almost all, of the prospects are male. I need people who won’t have issues taking orders from me.”

  “Goes without sayin’. What is it that might be said or done that would mean automatic rejection?”

  “You mean other than not meeting the requirements we just talked about?”

  “Aye.”

  “Hmmm. I don’t know. Might be one of those things that I can tell you after the interviews are over.” She laughed.

  “People often present one way on paper and another in person. Two hours should give you insight as to whether or no’ they would be right for D.I.T. Whether you can articulate it or no’, I suspect you have an idea of the ideal.”

  “I suspect you’re right. I’m looking for someone who is strong, quick, super smart, coolheaded, creative, resourceful, flexible, eager, enthusiastic, with good communication skills, decent people skills, no gender bias, and a strong desire
to be part of this project. That’s not asking too much, is it?”

  Rosie heard Grieve chuckle for the first time. “No, madam. ‘Tis no’ too much to ask of those who wish to serve Black Swan.”

  “Two hours it is then.” She leaned over the desk. “Did you make a list of that list? Just in case I forget something?”

  “I did. How many interviews would you like to schedule each day? With how much time in between?”

  “Well, my Auntie Elora taught me that people are more relaxed if you have meetings that are set up so as to appear to be an afterthought to food.”

  “No’ sure I follow.”

  “Okay. ‘Let’s talk over tea.’ ‘Meet me for dinner and we’ll talk.’ ‘You want to grab a coffee?’ ‘How about a drink before dinner?’ People expect to have conversation when meeting someone for food or drink or both. It’s a scenario we’re all familiar with and we’re accustomed to having our walls down.”

  “I see. So you would want to provide food and drink in your office?”

  “No. Actually I think it would be better to meet in a private setting in a public place.”

  “Was that an oxymoron?”

  “Sounds like, but no. What I mean is, you know that café at North Bridge and Market Street?”

  “Calton’s?”

  “Yeah. We’re past tourist season. It has two rooms. See if you can rent the entire west room for as long as we need to do interviews. We’ll surrender at five o’clock so they won’t miss out on dinner. I’ll take a table by the window and conduct interviews while I eat, drink, and people watch all day. I’ll find out what I want to know much easier than if I had them sit on the other side of my desk.”

  “Brilliant, madam.”

  “Told you, Grieve. You don’t have to suck up to me.”

  “The compliment was sincere.”

  “Well, in that case, thanks. I’ll need to have somebody we can trust there to herd the potentials. Have the café reserve three spots at the end of the bar for my wrangler and people who happen to show up early.”

  “Good idea.”

  “He or she should wear some kind of name tag so as to be easily recognized.”

  “Noted.” Grieve typed something, searched the screen, utilized his mouse a couple of times, then said, “They’re open for breakfast. How early do you want to get started?”

  “What time do they open?”

  “Nine thirty.”

  “If you can get them to open early for us, then we’ll get started at eight preferably, nine at latest. I’ll interview until three. That would be three interviews a day. That’s four days, but I’ll do the twins together. And I want to save them for last, give them a chance to experience life as we know it… Oh shit. Shit. SHIT! Did I arrange for them to arrive today?”

  “Who, madam?”

  “Who?!? The twins. That’s who! Please, please, please tell me I didn’t forget about it.” Grieve held his hands up helplessly. “Okay. When I called you a miracle worker before, I was just being cute. Now I really need you to pull rabbits out of your ass.”

  “I beg your pardon!” Grieve managed to actually look scandalized.

  “Not literally, Grieve. Paddy. I need a place for those girls to stay and somebody to be their tutor and constant companion. Think time travel. We’re expecting visitors from the early nineteenth century. Somebody’s got to be with them every second. They’ve never seen a motor vehicle before and haven’t been taught stuff like, ‘Don’t step off the curb without looking to your right first’. They need modern clothes and a crash course on life in the twenty-first century.”

  “When are they arriving?” Grieve said as calmly as if she was asking for a bottle of milk.

  “I don’t know. Just a minute.” She pulled her phone out of the thigh pocket of her Free People cargo pants and selected Ram’s contact. “When are you arriving?” Pause. “Yes. Hello to you, too. When are you arriving?” Pause. “No. I don’t sound the least panicked. Are you going to answer the question?” Pause. She looked up at Grieve. “Three? Our time.” Grieve nodded and gave a thumbs up. She patted her heart as if to say she loved him dearly. “Supergood. We’ll be ready. Oh! And thanks for doing this. Bye.” She paused. “Wait. Wait. Wait. You still there?” Pause. “Oh good. What did she say about training camp?” Pause. “Okay.” Pause. “Okay.” Pause. “Whatever you need. Yeah. Okay. Later.”

  She ended the call.

  Grieve was already talking to personnel on the house phone explaining that guest accommodations and a combination tutor-watchdog were needed immediately. “Somebody who specializes in early eighteenth century Irish history would be ideal. But the most important thing is people skills. We need to make the young ladies feel at home right away.” Pause. “Aye. Two people. Twelve-hour shifts each would do nicely.” Pause. He looked at Rosie. “Gender preference?”

  “Definitely female. Let’s give them a chance to be wowed by TV before we throw male pervbots at them.”

  “Female,” Grieve said into the phone before hanging up. “I’m pretendin’ to know what a ‘pervbot’ is, which is disturbin’ in itself and makes me worry that you’re beginnin’ to dismantle my vocabulary.”

  “Maybe your vocabulary could use a makeover, Grieve. Ever thought about that?”

  He pursed his lips. “I’m no’ opposed to new concepts, but prefer to communicate with actual words.”

  “Where’s the fun in that?”

  “I do no’ communicate for fun.”

  “And therein lies your problem.”

  “I thought I was a brilliant miracle worker.”

  “We don’t exist in a vacuum. Both things can be true.”

  He wisely decided to change the subject. “You were saying that you’d like to conduct three interviews a day for four days. But since the twins will interview together, that leaves a slot in case someone does no’ work out. Should we plan on an extra day in case several do no’ pass muster?”

  “Sounds like the prudent thing. Can we start tomorrow?”

  “I do no’ want to disappoint you, but before interviews can be scheduled, someone needs to contact the prospect, introduce the idea of D.I.T. and inquire as to whether or no’ they have an interest in an interview. Would you like me to ask personnel for a recommendation?”

  “No. I know who should do it.”

  “Who?”

  “Aelsong.”

  Grieve practically sputtered. “The princess?!? But madam, her days are heavily scheduled far in advance.”

  “Bet she loves that,” Rosie muttered.

  “I did no’ catch that.”

  “Her obligation to Black Swan trumps her obligation to the royal seat cushion.”

  “What’s a royal seat cushion?”

  “I don’t know. It’s just an image that came to mind. Trust me. She’ll jump at the chance to do something besides cut ribbons and cuddle new lambie pies.”

  “Madam…”

  “Leave this one to me, Grieve. I got this.”

  “Alright, but… aside from all else, her position has cast her in a role of celebrity that is no’ easily escaped. Cameras. Crowds. ‘Tis her reality now.”

  Rosie smiled wide. “Then we’re going to help her escape for a couple of days.”

  “Might I be so bold as to ask just one more question?”

  “Shoot.”

  “Why do you feel so strongly that she’s the one for this task?”

  “You know her, right?”

  “Aye.”

  “Aelsong has the sort of personality that puts people at ease. And while they’re at ease, she can pretty much read their minds and get them to do what she wants.”

  “I can no’ deny that.” Grieve inhaled deeply. “So how will you manage to make her invisible?”

  “I promised you one question. Don’t be piggy.”

  “Her assistants won’t let you in.”

  “Come on, Grieve.” Rosie laughed. “You should know that’s the least of our problems. Besides, I don’
t need her to conduct the pre-talk with all the candidates. I’m going to have Glen broach the subject with a few of them, the ones he’s worked with.”

  “’Tis a grand idea, madam. How many would that be?”

  “Let me see the list.” She reached out for it and Grieve put it in her hand. Skimming down, she said, “We have twenty people on my list. I need twelve to work out, but if we end up with more, it couldn’t hurt to have a second string.”

  “If that means what I think it means, I would no’ let them know you call it that.”

  “You’re probably right. We should call it Phase Two.” Grieve made a note of that. “Anyway, I’ll ask Glen to talk to five of these twenty. Two I’ve already seen. That leaves thirteen for the right royal princess of Irish elves and Scotia fae.

  “See if you can set up the café for the day after tomorrow. Do you have a special number we can dedicate to interview calls? The scheduling should go through you.”

  “I can arrange it within the hour.”

  “Okay. How are we coming on the training camp facility?”

  “I’ll check on progress as soon as I’m dismissed.”

  “Dismissed?” Rosie blinked a few times trying to place his meaning before she realized he was talking about his meeting with her. “Oh. Well. Consider yourself dismissed then. Except that, um, what am I supposed to be doing between now and the day after tomorrow?”

  “Would you like to have a chat with the O’Malley tutor before the twins arrive?”

  “Yes! I would like that.”

  “Very good. Would you like to have a talk over tea in the dinin’ room?”

  “Why, yes, Grieve. That sounds both dignified and productive.”

  He bowed slightly. “Perhaps by the time you return we might have some possibilities for trainin’ camp locale. You could zip off to scout and see what you think?”

  “Excellent. We’re moving right along.”

  “Indeed we are, madam.”

  Over tea, Rosie satisfied herself that Presmona Gillis would capably assist the twins’ acclimation to twenty-first century life. She was well-spoken, just past thirty, faint laugh lines indicating that she knew how to put life in perspective. They decided that her O’Malley watch shift would begin at eight in the morning and end twelve hours later after dinner. Ms. Gillis suggested that perhaps the nighttime hours should be spent with someone close to the twins’ own age who would better be able to relate to their transition and, perhaps, teach them about some of the cultural and technological hallmarks of that particular generation.